Memento Mori
by razielreaper
Summary: Story of a disgraced man, lost purpose and a city full of beasts that would one day bring hope. Enjoy and don't forget to comment. This is my first spark of inspiration in a while. Rated T for now, might become an M later.
1. Decision

**Prologue...**

The night was cold and quiet.. too quiet. The air around me felt heavy and almost irradiated a miasma of blood, smelling rotten like a lingering disease. I had a bad feeling, and also a bad day, yet my decision was adamant. Nothing would make me turn back on what I had decided, as i walked out of the gates of the proud gothic castle with no regrets, but one... Nothing would change, and I couldn't do anything about that. Yet I no longer cared. Arriving on the massive stone bridge, I took another look back as i walked towards the black carriage that would deliver me to my self-imposed exile...

The view was intoxicating, and inspired greatness with every nook and cranny. The sharp edges, the sea of statues, and especially the black brick walls that made up the impressive, humungous structure, would all become a simple memory soon, along with the sea of intricate, masterfully molded statues that decorated the gardens and the halls. I would miss the life, and the view, and especially the princess, but my decision was set in stone. I've had enough of this mockery... this affront to existence... this travesty. Tonight, in this cold wind, I would let it all go... with their battles, their hunts for innocents for a purpose lacking necessity or logic. One step in that carriage and it would all be washed away... or so I thought.

I still wonder how this had happened... and I remember the scene perfectly, in vivid detail. The morning was cold, as cold as the day... I was on duty at the walls, sent to intercept a group of attackers which had been previously spotted by our scouts in the vicinity of the castle walls... Silently, together with another three knights, I led a slow, steady charge across the long, massive stone bridge towards the piece of land which revealed, through the fog, figure after figure. They were all dressed in blue, long robes with intricate designs, you could almost see them as noble... But then, right there, the helmets shone in the foggy light... faceless, inhumane, the golden bell-like structures would haunt the nobles that dared set foot outside and met their end at the mercy of one of these... savages. Then there were the instruments of their wrath... the wheels. One would not meet a proud end at their hands... no... those caught were destined to suffer the fate of traitors and heretics, bludgeoned to a literal bloody pulp by massive wheels charged with arcane energy, empowering their wrath... those were our enemies, our invaders. The Executioners of the Church, and their master, Logarius. The group was small, so we prepared, drawing long, sharp blades to face the challenge.

There were no words, no fierce cries of war or grunts of a glorious battle. There was simply blood, to blacken the bridge further as it aged from crimson, withered by time. Silently, step by step, we met the enemy. I ran ahead and dodged beneath the first strike, blade drawn. Time seemed to freeze. The blades were sharp... Slide then cut, cut another, then another. The repetitive, macabre dance of death, was silent. each to spray blood on the stone tiles, each a memory of atrocity, until no golden light shone from the helmets, and no wheel was left to bludgeon. The return to the castle was uneventful. No ambushes, no pride, no joy, but the same silence as before, as I entered the elevator to the omnious halls. The queen, and her little princess, now grown more mature, waited in the library as I proceeded, the other knights posting themselves as stone statues outside the arched door leading to the elevator.

The halls were beautiful, decorated in velvety crimson. I could sense the scent of old paper and blood, from the smears on my clothes. I walked amongst noble ladies and servants, through great halls with huge shelves full of books from a forgotten age. The atmosphere, glowing in the light of candles, inspired reverence and royalty, as it should, as I arrived in front of the queen Victoria, and her daughter, princess Annalise, who was sitting silently in a chair 3 feet away from her mother. The queen wore a velvety dress of purple, and looked at me with a stone face and a gaze that could kill the most horrendous beast.

I kneeled and removed my helmet, as was my duty, awaiting silently for questions, as I had no right, by my rank, to speak without being asked to. Eyeing me with disdain, the queen would ask:

"Have the attackers been dealt with?"

"Yes, my queen..."

"Good. These attacks are becoming more and more of a nuisance as of late, but no matter, they serve their purpose. Have you collected the dregs from the fallen?"

I stopped. That was the turning point. The queen's master plan. She was already old, yet she was of the old-fashioned nobles. The pride of the Cainhurst lineage, the classes, all were respected by the queen's desire. And she had a plan, one that would lead to the unbeatable rise to power in the blood domain. The Cainhursts' power would soar with the sacrifice of life, along with the freedom of one person: the little princess, groomed by her alone to be the recipient of her grand design. Dregs after dregs were carried by the knights to feed the princess in order to bring forth the "glorious age of prosperity". The blood changed her, with each dose of the red substance she was made to ingest in silence. All to reach the conclusion of the plan, bearing a child of blood, having changed enough and gained enough insight to be chosen to bear an eldritch being into her womb. The princess wore the contract ring all the time. Not to be married or touched by anyone. A contract of blood, marking her womb as belonging to beings above. Or, so was her vision, her master plan.

I didn't know what brought a change of heart upon me that day, but after the attackers were felled, I couldn't bring myself to fuel the madness further. I refused to bring the precious dregs and hoped that I could avoid the topic, that was obviously unavoidable. Yet I had made up my mind. Despite being part of the castle and sworn to serve its queen, I couldn't bring myself to further fuel the mutilation of a child. It was the one glimmer of humanity I had left, after being marked as a Vileblood, a vampire of sorts. I could not bring myself to do it.

That day, after the battle, ten dregs were to be collected, and , having people, other knights, with me, I had no choice but to comply. However, I did not want to bring them forth... That time, I forced the down my throat myself, as they started walking back to the castle... And there I stood, in front of the queen, for the first time, empty-handed. And so my answer was sincere... and as sharp as a blade.

"No."

"WHAT? Without the dregs our princess will not be able to bear us into a golden age for our lineage. Their collection is mandatory, as is your duty. Do you seek to betray us, Commander?"

The queen pierced me with her eyes, almost sentencing me to death by gaze itself. I found myself ignoring her, while turning my gaze to the princess. She stood there watching, like a doll, expressionless and with a face cold as the stone tiles in the walls. I found myself looking into her eyes with a question as if tatooed on my gaze... the question was..."Do you really want this...?"... Her gaze was sad... my answer cut worse than blade or bullet... I stood up, and looked the queen straight in the eyes.

"I seek not to betray, but I shall not indulge this plan any longer. I apologise, but my decision is final. Fare thee well."

I turned to leave, to be met by a dozen guards pulling out swords. The queen was outraged. Yet I would still defend myself. As I was ready to draw, the queen spoke like thunder.

"Let him go. Vincent Corvus, you are hereby relieved of your position as Knight Commander of Cainhurst Castle. For your act of betrayal, you would deserve execution, but your actions in the service of the royal family had earned you a different punishment. You are hereby forever exiled from Castle Cainhurst. You have until dusk to gather your belongings and leave the castle premises, never to return."

I didn't look back. I went to my quarters, packed my bags, carefully depositing the armor and my signature weapon in my luggage, put on a tattered cape and a top hat and marched off in silence. As i looked one last time towards one of the mirrors decorating the halls, I noticed the now soft red glow of my eyes... No matter.

That day, I stepped in the carriage and left Castle Cainhurst behind, not once looking back since...


	2. Plague

**Chapter I: Plague...**

Unexpected as it is, life can take some strange turns now and then, and regrettably, most of the times in this god forsaken place, it is for the worst. It's been 30 years since I left my duties behind along with all the noble bullshit and walked out those stone gates, and yet the image of that day still haunts me. To make matters worse, I have felt withdrawal, as lack of the queen's blood has ravaged my body. I age not still, as all of Cainhurt do, yet the other perks of the queen's tainted blood have dissipated greatly... the vigor, the strength, the endurance, all of it washed away... leaving me now just a glowing-eyes freak who seemed to put no year on in 3 decades, left with a body far older than it looks, and a soul ravaged by guilt and consequence... The worst part is, however, not the loss of powers, or the disgrace, the loss of recognition or title, but the loss of the most valuable thing that tainted blood would offer... the immunity...

This world is cursed... as if the very ground itself shakes and trembles, the world trying to vomit off greedy humans by all means necessary... We, especially those of us who saw or tasted the forbidden, are especially afflicted by this... The world is diseased, and so are we... and after so many years of having the noble, tainted blood keep away the monster, the plague and the blade, I finally find myself succumbing... My mind becomes number, at times, as I gaze upon my naked hands, I see clawed talons... I know not how long I still have, but I am becoming the monster I once hunted and that cuts deepest... I would rather die human than end up this accursed monstrosity...

Yet memories are to blame... always to blame... And old memories are those who now saw me to a black carriage now riding through the mud, no ray of light shining through its murky windows... I guess filth is fitting, as it is, for my very life is nothing more than filth... Once a proud knight, I am left with the legacy of the dirt... The little I took away with me, the only memory of pride, slowly waning itself... Yet that last strand of sanity, that last piece of knowledge of a once better past, remembered by none but my subconcious, I just cannot let go. I find myself clenching claws and fangs around it as if I was a ravenous beast, just to keep a memory alive of a life gone by a decision... That is the price I am needed to pay. A price I could refuse any day but one that keeps both my sanity and what little is left of my true self. And so, I ride the filth to the origin of it all, or more likely, the result of it all... The city of Yharnam, the Capital of Blood Ministration, as well as its only home... the sole city related to all, from the discovery to the use and misuse of the ancient blood that coursed through the veins of the queen I used to know and also, though much dissipated, through my own.

As I descend, ancient memories reawaken upon seeing the gothic spires engulfed by the dusk, yet still the setting grim as ever, as the carriage stops in front of a cemetery... Almost fitting, that the clinic be placed in such a cursed place, yet unnerving still... My mind wanders and I lose track of time for a couple of minutes, as I remember the sad face of the fair princess, before I walked away from that insanity... She would be about 40 now, I would presume... As for me, 70, though my age shows not, as all cursed with eternal youth must endure no gain in years, past the point of maturity or that of the turning... We are all walking memories, or at the very least were... I sigh in disbelief and quickly dismiss the thoughts as I proceed... The alleyway is somewhat dark, yet the way is still clear... The silence feels heavy as I walk among countless unnamed gravestones, as if the dead paving the way to a grim destiny... Yet as before, a decision made shall not be unmade and thus I step into the dim light of the clinic, alone...

My eyes quickly become accustomed to the strange lighting as I remove my top hat and proceed with caution. The walls are firmly decorated with wooden cabinets filled with multiple strange substances, varying from a strange blue liquid to unrecognizable pills. The lower ends all contain cupboards, some open and some not, filled with files I lack the interest in, as well as vials of the precious blood... This time, my way is paved not by the dead but by the hopeful, as I walk on a narrow hall with walls made real by the surgical tables which bore attached to them tall pillars with vials hanging, long, thin hoses with needles hanging, dripping at time in a reddish substance... I smell the blood... Intoxicating, as if my inner monster grins at the taste... Always has been so...

As I reached the upper end, my eyes were greeted by the light of a hand lantern, and with it a man with a raggedy beard in a wheelchair, bearing a tall hat and seemingly worn clothes, yet the uniform betrayed him... a Minister stood before me, and stared me down grimly...

"I seek the healing blood. The one said to cure all disease." I said firmly, without fluctuations or feeling. Despite being there, I felt a dizziness as my mind was wandering again.

"Oh, yes... Paleblood... Well, you've come to the right place. Yharnam is the home of blood ministration. You need only unravel its mystery. But, where's an outsider like yourself to begin? Easy, with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own... But first, you'll need a contract..."

As I saw his face, I found myself feeling just a little unnerved. There was something... beastly about him... as if the aura he irradiated was wrong, savage... even bloodthirsty... Yet most disturbing were his eyes, as light shone upon his face... or, better said, his lack of eyes... Grinning, the man handed me a piece of yellow, worn paper which requested that I write down details regarding myself, a short, succinct origin, as well as physical information related to my body. The paper symbolised the contract of a hunter of beasts, who would hunt those who have fallen to the plague... I would complete it without a word and hand it back, receiving another unnerving grin.

"Good." he said. "All signed and sealed. Now let's begin the transfusion."

The facility appeared somewhat unsanitary, and upon witnessing the host, the thought was rather dreadful. I must have shown my skepticism, as the minister proceeded to add with the same cryptic attitude:

"Oh, don't you worry. Whatever happens... You may think it all a mere bad dream..."

The sting of the needle hurt... I watched in silence, as the first drop of blood dissipated in a strange, yellowish substance, and the such flew in my veins... I found myself drifting off, losing sense of self and feeling nausea as well as a strong vertigo... Looking around, the minister was gone, and below me stood a pool of blood, seemingly dripping from my other arm, where the blood I originally had was being let out, to be replaced by Yharnam blood... The puddle kept growing, and the next sighting was horrendous. As if manifested by the blood itself, a monster appearing as a ravenous humanoid wolf-like beast, covered in blood and grime, was crawling out of the pool, oozing blood. It looked as if it was missing skin and flesh in different places, and it crawled with an inhuman, almost painful step, towards the table. I tried reacting. Adrenaline and instinct took over, yet I found myself unable to move a single muscle to defend myself from the vicious monstrosity. It lunged at me to strike, yet as it reached forth, somehow it was repelled, bursting ablazed. I watched in shock as the monster was burning alive, struggling desperately to put itself out...

The nightmare was over, and so I thought... I felt something touch my legs... more and more ... As if tiny hands started crawling on my body... As I turned my face I would witness the source... I felt as if my body was violated by the creatures, strange, small and deformed, as if tiny corpses shining in moonlit silver... Yet I felt no sinister intent... As my body was covered by them, I lost focus and conciousness... I would awaken minutes later, perhaps even an hour, alone, with none of my belongings but the clothes on my body... a ragged coat with a white tie, my leather gloves and boots, my old cape, worn and torn, and my top hat laying next to me. The atmosphere was heavy, and the air was sweet... Something, however, was rather off.

I could not only feel it, but literally smell it. I was in danger, for downstairs, stood a beast, feeding off a corpse. I proceeded with lots of caution, trying my hardest to sneak past the creature. I failed. I felt dizzy and my steps were uneven and sloppy. It could smell me approaching. Though wounded, it seemed, the black wolf-man now stood before me... It started swiping his claws brutally around, which I did my best to dodge, as I was trying to use my knowledge of hand-to-hand combat in order to hit some weak spots, or so I presumed. I tried punching the jaws, poking at an eye, or even hitting the groin. The beast took minor bruises, yet was unfazed. As my stamina left me, a single swipe sent me to oblivion... Falling down, bleeding profusely, I awaited death... the end... My thoughts were all that haunted the final moment, all around lacking sound, smell, or even sight, but the crimson river gashing from my wounds...

"I'm sorry... princess..."

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _I am truly glad to see so much attention in so little time. Just to make this clear, you may consider the story sort of a new game plus. For clarification, the character is currently wearing the following: Charred hunter garb, Hunter trousers, Top hat, Yharnam hunter gloves. Enjoy and review. I will post a new chapter as soon as I can._


	3. Salvation

**Chapter II: Salvation...**

To my surprise, I found myself waking up in eerie stillness, the air itself seeming heavy, yet soothing... The strange place appeared to me as a small building, located in a garden of sorts... The most striking of details was the fact that, despite appearing perfectly calm, the strong feeling of uneasiness was greatly amplified still by the unnerving presence of the gardens decorations... Countless gravestones circled the small house on the hill, paving the way like an unnatural fence. I found my feelings contradictory, since, as paradoxical as it may seem, the presence of that strange feeling in the back of my head somehow soothed me...

Rising up, my trance was broken by the sudden realization of what had just transpired earlier, as the shocking truth slapped me like thunder; I was dead... or at the very least supposed to be dead. A slight fit of panic was quickly dismissed as I began checking my body for injuries... The pain lingered still as a painful memory suddenly crossed my mind... In vivid detail, I remembered the last gruesome moments of my supposed death, from my pointless struggle to survive, down to the very last breath as I was mauled to a bloody pulp by an angry monstrosity, the ravenous beast delighting itself in ripping the flesh from my motionless body, with me laying there, numb, as I watched in horror the gruesome display. Yet still, further unexplained, my body held no wounds, no marks, not even shreds in the clothing or traces of dirt and blood. I found myself smiling with sadness upon the sudden realization that, despite my best of efforts, I failed in my quest... I was not a hunter, or a knight, or even a commoner. I could not hunt the beasts, transcend the hunt, find the last remnants of my ancient past, nor could I find a peaceful life for myself to retire to... I was simply that... dead. As my mind wrapped around it, I could see no other explanation, and yet, despite an eerie sad smile creeping upon myself, I was strangely content... I was, for the first time in my rather long life, able to rest, free of burden, of responsibility...

Letting this small moment of saddening calm pass, I found myself exploring the surroundings... I couldn't shake off the strong feeling of floating that I was getting in the depth of my stomach... Gazing into the distant fog that made up my horizon, all I could see were tall pillars, seemingly unending in their grandeur, rising from the nothingness around... There was no sound, no cold, no ground... The small hill and the house atop appeared to be floating in the endless void, the eye of the storm, the soothing deathly calm encompassing all, dissolving existence itself to dust... Walking still, I found myself stopping in front of a small pool of water, laying in a stone basin of intricate design, still and crystal clear, like a mirror in the fog... Overwhelmed by nostalgia, I found myself gazing down the watery abyss, only to be greeted by the reflection of my own visage in the empty stillness. It was a strangely familiar feeling, bringing forth great emotion... As I contemplated upon the nature of this place, I found my mind wandering blankly through the long lost passages of my life as Knight Commander, with all its glory and sophistication, and yet still, with all its gruesome horrors... I suddenly became self-conscious of my parasitic nature, a vampire leeching off of the blood of others, in order to further maintain its power... I remembered the taste of the sweet blood, or the emotionless bathing in the blood of the enemies, of other hunters, as my blade sliced silently through their very beings, leaving behind mere lumps of flesh, barely disassembled from the original by the cleanest of cuts... I remembered the torment I aided in, bringing dregs to the old queen, I remembered the debauchery and excess of the nobility that I indulged myself in, my eerie smile, bordering into manifestations of both lust and gluttony, at another tiny drop of royal, tainted blood, oh so intoxicating...

A single tear dropped, disturbing the silent stillness of the watery mirror, as I painfully concluded I did not deserve to rest like this... I could not deny the monster inside, the hunger, the bloodlust-fueled desire, the exquisite sensation of its fulfillment. A beast shouldn't be allowed to rest like this, and that was all I was... I suddenly felt empty inside as I instinctively reached towards my face, fingers touching the slight wetness of my right cheek... The irony was there, for one who gave up on humanity to still find within himself a human, even if it was death that brought it... My brief moment of sad reverie ended abruptly, my face turning stone cold as I was awakened by a sudden revelation... Gazing again into the water I observed a small detail I seemed to have briefly forgotten, in my brief moment of painful nostalgia... The silver mirror of water reflected my stone-cold, statuesque visage, my fingers resting on a long scar crossing my cheek from just below the right eye... The three cuts, one significantly longer than the others, were brought by one of my first hunts, at the very peak of the beastly outbreak of the plague... A noble had turned and I was asked to dispatch the newly awakened beast before a ruckus could shake the castle... The fight, no matter how brief or discrete, ended up leaving a painful memory not to be forgotten, about the importance of such things as preparation and cunning... Returning to the present, the shocking realization was brought forth not by the presence of the said scar, but by its inconsistency... Upon finding myself in this place, I remembered not finding any trace of my bloody demise, not a single cut in my clothes or trace of filth, yet this one specifically stubbornly persisted...

Returned from my nihilism with newfound purpose, I found myself intrigued further by this strange place... I had concluded, despite lack of better arguments, that there was a distinct possibility of me not actually being dead, yet saved from my gruesome fate by some form of supernatural phenomenon. It was baffling, yet strangely appealing, fueling my curiosity of exploring this place... Released from the numbing lethargy, my mind and senses sharpened as I began curiously looking around the place... In my proximity, on what appeared to be some sort elevated flower bed, stood a life-sized doll. By the looks of it, the doll was an astonishing piece of craftsmanship, being dressed in elegant, delicate embroidery, covered by what appeared to be an intricate, dark brown shawl. Closer inspection revealed a beautiful face with fair hair and skin, which maintained its eerie beauty despite the slight scaring of tear, small cracks, barely visible, marking the edges of the doll's forehead and hands... The strangely appealing visage awoke within me a feeling of familiarity, as I couldn't help but shake the thought that I have seen that face somewhere before, a long time ago...

Resisting an urge for closer inspection, I continued walking on the paved road, bordered by neatly groomed gravestones and mist, towards the the small house on the hill. A new feeling of familiarity washed over me as I was overwhelmed by the smell of old books, nostalgia greatly amplified by the heartwarming sight of old lacquered wood... The inside of the building was a single room, Its beautiful, intricate wooden architecture giving it an ever so slight air of sophistication, shaded by its practicality... Everywhere rested piles of nameless books, cornering different wooden tables which appeared to be fitted with a plethora of different tools, some complete while others missing components. A large chest appeared to be fitted to the side, while the very back of the room housed a table covered in red cloth, decorated with candles, as if an altar to some unnamed entity... What struck me as interesting was the decoration of the right wall, its wooden frame housing countless hinges, used to holster an impressive collection of weapons, each concealing mechanisms that would increase their deadliness. In a mere moment, my mind was snapped from the impressive display by a gentle cough, revealing its origin as a man in a wheelchair. Looking upon him, one could observe simple clothing, well kept despite obvious signs of wear and tear, framing the slim body of an elderly person. Its face, shaded by the simple hat, slightly oriented towards the front of his head, revealed a clean shave and long, unkempt hair, accentuated lines on his face betraying his advanced age. The shriveled hands, marked by countless years of use, rested upon a a cane, beautiful in its simplicity, its lower portion placed drawing attention towards the reason of the man's handicap... With another cough, the old man eyed me with a steel gaze, something about in causing my muscles to grow tense. With a raspy voice, the man spoke...

" _Ah-hah, you must be the new hunter. Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now. I am..."_

For a brief moment, the man appeared to be lost in thought, as if brushing the deep recesses of his memory to remember... the pause made him even older than his body showed, his eyes, somewhat devoid of emotion, betraying a long life of hardship and sadness, despite their piercing gaze... After a deep sigh, the man continued...

" _Gehrman, friend to you hunters. You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this. Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good. You know, it's just what hunters do! You'll get used to it..."_

As if summoned by causality, the small, shriveled, pale skinned corpse-like creatures from before rose from the ground itself, each presenting me a tool... The assortment was quite varied, from a blunderbuss to a simple pistol, from a long halberd to some kind of strange saw... With slight hesitation, I took up the pistol, recalling with fond memories the tools of my trade as a knight... the handle was firm, the barrel decorated by intricate engravings... It was well balanced and revealed great care in both its design and construction... I would test it a second later, on what appeared to be a small stone vase... The gun was loaded with silver bullets with a pungent smell of blood and, as expected, didn't fail to deliver a perfectly accurate shot. Leaning towards the close combat weapons, I found myself unimpressed by the grotesque contraptions. Lacking in finesse, the devices were built to be vicious, betraying their true purpose... the killing of beasts just as crude and vicious as the blades that fell them. My sight was suddenly drawn towards the table, where a rather long walking cane stood. The weapon, built of pure silver, was hexagonal in shape with a sharp tip, edges sharpened to perfection to reveal purpose. Lacking the punch of the others, yet compensating in grace and finesse, the sword was simply beautiful. A nod from Gehrman let my hands touch the masterful piece of craftsmanship, feeling the familiar cold of the blade, as well as the firm grip of the handle... Upon touching the latter, however, my fingers felt a switch... Pressing firmly, the sword would deconstruct into a string of smaller fragments of equal sharpness, changing position into a vicious bladed whip. A few swings later, the weapon sealed the deal, as I was ready to go out into the night... Before departure, however, I paused briefly... With slight hesitation, I turned my gaze towards the old man, and with a cold tone, asked quietly...

" _What exactly is this place...?"_

 _"This was once a safe haven for hunters. A workshop where hunters used blood to enhance their weapons and flesh. We don't have as many tools as we once did, but... You're welcome to use whatever you find."_

And then, with a whispered tone, he added...

 _"...Even the doll, should it please you..."_

Having deemed the information thus far acceptable, I proceeded down the paved alleyway back to the bottom of the hill. The man's words still resonated inside my head, as I found myself stopping yet again in front of the beautifully designed construct laying motionless on the elevated flowerbed. Upon closer inspection I was surprised, if a bit startled at first, to discover slight movement. Upon touch, the construct turned towards me, gently brushing and arranging her clothing as she stood up, her perfectly motionless visage, so cold in its beauty, eyeing me with entrancing, golden-green eyes... With a short, yet elegant bow, she proceeded to speak in entrancing, soothing monotony...

 _"Hello, good hunter. I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you. Honorable hunter, pursue the echoes of blood, and I will channel them into your strength. You will hunt beasts... and I will be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit."_

After a brief pause, she continued with a question...

" _Did you speak to Gehrman?_ "

After returning her bow as greeting, I would briefly nod my head, announcing a positive answer, yet my empty eyes betrayed curiosity. The strange doll appeared to have fully perceived my hidden feelings, as she continued, in the same eerie tone, cold yet warm at the same time...

" _He was a hunter long, long ago, but now serves only to advise them. He is obscure, unseen in the dreaming world. Still, he stays here, in this dream... ...such is his purpose.."_

I smiled to her kind reply, yet found myself surprised to feel a strange pull on the lower portion of my coat. Gazing down towards the ground, I saw yet again one of the silver creatures, eyeing me with its empty eyes, pulling gently on my coat as it pointed towards a nearby gravestone... I was baffled and slightly confused, feeling I did my best to brush off quickly, having already gotten used to the strangeness of this place. As I was making a note in my head not to let myself be surprised by such strange happenings and simply accept them as they are, the doll appeared to have noticed my surprise. With a short giggle, she spoke yet again...

" _Ahh, the little ones, inhabitants of the dream... They find hunters like yourself, worship, and serve them. Speak words, they do not, but still, aren't they sweet?"_

With a gentle smile, she invited me to follow the "little one". I smiled back, finding myself slightly more confused, despite no longer being surprised. I did indeed not feel hostile intent from the small creature, and as such I proceeded to indulge its wish. Brought to the gravestone, the small being gestured as if to suggest touch. I proceeded to hesitatingly comply, despite not understanding the meaning of the gesture... Upon touch, however, I found my mind flooded by emptiness, followed by the distant image of that same bed in the clinic. I felt a strange, compelling desire to visualize that one image closer and closer, its clarity growing to the point where it overwhelmed my every thought, my very notion of space and being... With a simple blink, the image of the headstone was replaced by the ceiling of the clinic, as I found myself lying motionlessly on the same cold bed...

This time, there was no nausea, no feeling of vertigo, and my hands felt next to me the bladed cane and the pistol from before... With steady steps, I proceeded downstairs, only to be greeted by the same beast, feasting itself from a lifeless corpse. As I grew tense, the beast sensed my presence, as it shifted its attention towards me rapidly, followed by a quick lunge. My tension was overwhelmed by the eerie calm of training. In a moment, I would sidestep and, with half a pirouette, decapitate the beast where it stood... As blood started flowing, squirting everywhere, The glow in my eyes became brighter, even if for a single moment, my pupils briefly contracting to a slit... In that one fraction of a second, I was horrified to discover the deranged smile branding my face, so brief one might question its existence... Sadly, I knew better...


	4. Perdition

**Chapter III: Perdition...**

With a sigh, I push open the doors, facing the cold evening air for the first time since my... joining. The breeze, soft, soothing yet strangely unnerving, meets my face as I proceed to retrace my steps through the graveyard in front of the clinic, pushing my way past the barred iron gates, and into the city proper. The last rays of the sun push their ways past the intricate design of the gothic rooftops of Yahrnam, adding a gentle shine to the filthy pavement tracing the path into the city. Layers of filth, broken down carriages and coffins, sealed as if to keep the dead in check, frame the path, and as soon as I proceeded, I could literally smell the nauseating odor of sweat and fresh blood from further into the city. Surpressing disgust, I pushed for a better vantage point, sneaking silently up a ladder towards one of the upper areas of the city... The place felt empty, cold, and almost hauntingly quiet, yet i made my way further, step by step...

As I proceeded, my eyes caught glimpse of what appeared to be a group of the same creatures that guided me inside that dream-like place from before, crawling one on top of another towards what appeared to be a small lamppost. An eerie, almost ethereal aura surrounded the strange object, its soft, ghastly purple light pulling at the inside of my mind, calling me closer, almost urging me to touch... Instinctively I reached forward, as the glow, apparently feeding on my very presence, brightened. As I leaned in to touch, my mind suffered a moment of darkness as I started envisioning in unnervingly vivid detail the image of the Dream... As I felt tethers pulling me further, I stepped away. Logical guessing marked the lamp itself as a sort of beacon, anchoring this...waking... world to the strange dream. yet I deemed it unfit to try to return. Instead, I pushed forward as my attention was drawn by yet another lamp, and as a voice called to me, I was caught off-guard.

"Are you a hunter?" The voice asked. Slightly confused, yet unable to sense any malignancy, I decided to take the opportunity to question the mysterious citizen about the city proper, as well as about the healing blood I was looking for at the beginning of my journey, now feeling like a distant memory... As the man, obviously confused, suggested pushing towards the cathedral ward, home of the Healing Church, I couldn't help but feel like I had forgotten something important... The more I tried to focus on the thought, the more it seemed as if it eluded me further, and as such I put it away for the moment, making a mental reminder to think about it further once i have managed to proceed deeper into the city... Politely thanking the man, I made my way further down a cobblestone path leading downwards, to my right. With each step, I caught onto more and more voices, whispers and screams both, together with the sound of footsteps and the clank of metal hitting metal. Remembering the little I objectively knew, the same familiar scent of sweat and blood filled the air...

The thought was cut short as my attention was caught by a loud THUMP. What appeared to be a man, dirty and slightly malnourished, if not outright malformed, charged me wildly, swinging a rusted cleaver. The weapon, unfit for proper combat yet nevertheless dangerous, forced me to sidestep as i lifted my bladed cane, ready to riposte. The man, while apparently insane, was lacking in finesse as he flailed his arms wildly, yet I was faster... Switching the grip on my cane, I used the curved handle to catch the inner edge of the attacker's blade, flinging it out of his reach with a flick of the wrist. Surprised, the man pulled backwards with a grunt, yet it was too late... The cane's bladed edge sliced diagonally, severing several of the savage's arteries as he collapsed, lifeless, onto the filth below... Further steps were met by bright light, as I approached a nearby ledge... As if to confirm my earlier thoughts, the smell hit me again as my eye was drawn towards the convoy marching in the street below...

Dressed in ragged clothes and armed with tools best described as makeshift weapons, the street was crowded by what could only be described as a witch hunting mob... Torches and angry faces, contorted as if unnaturally, lead the charge, the dancing sparkles of the flames glittering on the edges of forks, axes and others as such... The air itself was brimming with hostility, as the mob walked slowly, scouting the side areas and the tiny walkways between the houses, as each brought more to the rallying group... Taking advantage of what appeared to be a decently guarded position, I started considering a plan of action. The mob, despite very probable inexperience with the use of proper weaponry and lacking in both finesse and tactics, compensated in sheer number. I was confident that facing the crowd would be trivial if it were not for its pure size, as I would be eventually surrounded. Further careful scouting revealed that several more members of the angry group, this time armed with rifles, lay resting against the walls or ledges, eyeing the surroundings, as the bulk of the horde gathered around what appeared to be a huge bonfire made up of the broken down carriages littering the streets. The decision left no place for argument; if I was to have any chance of success, a more careful approach would be preferable. Gathering several tiny stones nearby, I began tailing the crowd. Rolling first behind a nearby carriage, then another, i managed to close the distance to the first of the shooters... The man, dressed in a filthy coat and top hat, breath smelling of a mix of pungent blood and alcohol, lay alone in the filth, guarding the entrance to a set of stairs that appeared to lead to a ledge overseeing the bonfire. Quietly, I approached from behind, and quickly reached out, grabbing him by the mouth as I quickly slit his throat before he managed to attempt to struggle... A stab through the heart sealed the deal, as I pulled the corpse behind the carriage, making my way onto the ledge...

Proceeding slowly, I was charged from a nearby alley by two of the madmen wielding kitchen knives and sickles, yet I was prepared for the assault. Tension filled every muscle fiber in my body, as I let my reflexes take over and quickly cut down the two before their wild swings managed to connect. Crouching, I moved towards the other two that seemed to be patrolling the area. Monitoring them, I watched as one of the two, a tall slender figure with a ragged beard and long, tattered black coat, proceeded into a nearby alley, letting his companion take the lead. Following swiftly, I approached him as he pulled out his manhood, taking a leak in a dirty corner. In a flick of the blade in my hand, the careless assailant was now yet another filth decorating the city floor... With that taken care of, I proceeded to tail his companion, following with a quick beheading from the back.

Crouching behind a fence trailing the edge of the ledge I was on, I peeked carefully at the mob below. At least thirty men gathered around the fire, screaming obscenities related to outsiders and waving their weapons energetically, as several figures rallied the crowd. Random bits of dialogue echoed through the buzz, covering the evening atmosphere in sounds of violence... Taking in the surrounding area, I noticed on one of the carriages on the other side of the small clearing, one of the shooters... The man, squinting heavily with his gun drawn, scurried the surroundings with care... In the heat of the moment, I decided I could try to snipe him, thus leaving only one more to deal with. Pulling out my flintlock pistol, I extended my arm and took aim towards the head... the smell of blood and quicksilver filled the air as, with the slightest twitch on the trigger, a loud bang overwhelmed the cacophony as the bulled rippled, yet the trajectory failed to meet its target.

Shit... In a single moment two gunshots were heard as they hit the pavement in my direction. With killing intent, a string of angry, blood crazed fiends entered pursuit, climbing nearby obstacles while others charged straight for the stairs behind. Quick reloads marked several salves of fire to attempt to stave of the horde, as I tried to push myself into the side alleys, in a desperate struggle to form a beeline towards me, easing the pressure. As I dragged the mob towards the back alleys, a sharp pain shot through my left shoulder as a bullet rippled through my coat and flesh both. From a sidewalk, a rabid bloodhound charged, doing several sprinting zigzags as it finally leaped for my jugular. I narrowly avoided and punched it in the gut, causing it to tumble into a nearby wall. Recovering, the beast started barking menacingly, approaching carefully as the others pushed me further towards a corner... Another burst of pain erupted from my left shoulder, the warm rivulet of blood sliding under my sleeve, dripping from the tips of my fingers as I forced myself to bite through the pain and tighten the grasp on my pistol... The pain, though sharp, however, served a different purpose...

Another shot... The bullet flew and pierced through my top hat, sending it tumbling into the pit behind the fence preventing my fall... My mind, enclosed by a strange sense of familiarity, detached itself from the surrounding grimness of reality. In a second I remembered my origins, as the instinct behind years of training once again took over, as with the beast beforehand... Pulling further towards an edge, as to obscure the angle of the shooter behind the crowd, I brought my hand to my mouth and licked the blood pouring from under my wrist. A brief burst of confidence appeared, as I felt my pupils contract into slits yet again, image focusing to crystalline quality, as I felt with my fingers for the button hidden on the handle of my cane. Feeling it, I placed my finger ready and let tension flow yet again through my body, bending knees as I stood, poised to kill. Then the first of the group made a mistake... Unable to make himself wait any further, a bulky brute of the man charged at me with a butcher's knife, swinging wildly. I ducked and proceeded to let my arm whip forward, slicing through the man's hands, forcing him to drop the blade. Towards the side, the hound made another lunge for my throat, yet my reaction was faster... I grabbed for the collar of the man I cut earlier and pushed him towards the animal, sending both tumbling to the side. As the group gained courage and started their assault, I pressed the button. Disintegrating into itself, the Threaded Cane rearranged, dozens of tiny blades lining the steel string now replacing the straight edge. With a quick pirouette, I began the dance of death, whipping cut after cut into the assaulting horde... Slice after slice, I managed to give myself some room to breathe, as the hound attempted a third attack. Prepared from the inside of my swirling chain of death, I flicked up the hand holding the gun, the dog's lunge being met by a point black shot, silencing the animal for good. Whip after whip, I let myself be intoxicated by the pleasure of battle, the scent of fresh blood feeling my lungs, as if energizing me with each new body laying in the collective rubbish paving the city streets. Deep inside my mind I felt a pool, as if the collective sensation of the death of many was drawn inside my very core, their final thoughts serving to fuel my rage. The outer edges of the crowd started a slow, unsteady retreat, as the whirling torrent of blades mowed the front ranks, slowly pushing towards them. Attempted escape overwhelmed the survivors, yet my blade was sharper... A scream pierced the evening sky as the bladed whip wrapped around the neck of the final escapee...

Left alone, handling the shooters proved to be a nuisance at most. Further into the plaza past the bonfire, Thump after loud thump could be heard from the gates... A brutish, gargantuan creature, vaguely resembling an overgrown, hulking beast of a man, repeatedly smashed its bloody fists into the gates beside him. Noticing my approach, I was taken off guard as the monolithic beast charged, a leap faster than its size would lead one to believe possible, sending me tumbling into the wall. Another running attack came, yet this time I proved to be faster. Swinging what appeared to be a stone brick, the wide arching move left the gargantuan man wide open for an attack. Taking the chance, I used my blood to empty 3 blood bullets into the beasts chest, staggering him. In a moment of confusion, I lunged with a thrust for the heart, sending the beast to its knees... I was suddenly taken aback by the perseverance of the beast, which even though gravely wounded, forced itself back unto its knees, pushing from all four to attempt to stand. With a slight hesitation given by the painful reminder of the holes in my arm, I finished the job...

Upon the creature I found several flasks of a crimson substance with a pungent smell, appearing similar to the blood that was pumped into my veins as I received the transfusion back when I first arrived. Sniffing the now open bottle, I took a quick sip of the liquid, feeling a rapid return of strength... My body was hit by sharp pain as I felt my flesh literally tear into itself, my wounds tightening, greatly diminishing the bleeding... With slow steps, caused by fatigue and loss of blood, yet pushed by determination, I forced myself further into the city, onto a nearby bridge which apparently led into the Cathedral Ward... Yet there, on the bridge, they stood... Black, bloodied fur glistening in the last rays of dusk, two huge wolf-like beasts patrolled on the bridge. In a moment, their sharply stopped in their tracks, sniffing the air loudly... I froze. I was tired and wounded more than I wanted to admit, and knew that in my current state, I couldn't take that level of brutality... My heart racing like crazy, I dashed and let myself slide as the two monsters lunged towards me, claws glistening as their eyes reflected ravenous, maddening bloodlust... Overwhelmed by instinct, I blindly charged into a nearby house, slicing my way through three surprised men, yet nevertheless armed, as I pushed down the stairs and out the front door, leading me into what appeared to be a damp back alley...

The area, while silent, reeked of puke, blood, rotting flesh and piss, marked here and there by old signs of depravity and struggle... The air was damp and stank of blood, mostly my own, as I allowed myself a moment of respite, after assuring myself I wasn't followed... Ripping a piece of cloth from my already tattered cloak, I quickly tied a tight, improvised tourniquet on my shoulder as I forced myself, step after painful step, in the only direction I could... A sigh of relief marked the moment I reached a gate with a lever nearby, as I realized my journey took me back through an accidental shortcut, to the lamp from before... Reaching my hand out towards its ethereal glow, I let my consciousness fade from reality, as I was pulled back into the dream...

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Yes I ain't dead, nor have I forgotten the story... Life gave me a rougher period in my studies, and I found myself left with less time... That, combined with a loss of connection with the story itself due to time away from the Bloodborne world lead to a rather... slow update, for which I wish to apologize. Nevertheless, please enjoy, review and criticize, yet, if you will, humor me for a bit and leave in your reviews between who you think the romance will end up being... Also, as a small spoiler, Cleric Beast is coming next... Cya:*_


End file.
